From Nothing
by darahdeschain1
Summary: Katherine Markov has built a pretty comfortable life for herself in 2077. She lives and loves in Concord, Massachusetts and has seen her country start from nothing to become a global superpower. On October 23rd, she will see that world that she knew razed to the ground and be part of the struggle to start that process again, and in that struggle, she will find the her own origin.
1. Chapter 1

**87**

Katherine didn't have anything to do yet that evening. It was a lazy evening, one where the warmth of the day was only just easing off but lingering enough so that Katherine could leave the bathroom door open while she bathed stretching out her long slender legs and singing to herself. She was a singular woman with fair skin made pale from every day since her late teenagehood spent indoors. Her voice was deep and sweet, but powerful enough that she could make it sound sharp and authoritative when she needed to. Eyes cold and blue and too old for such a young face would regard the world, framed on either side by rich warm black hair that spilled over slight shoulders and delicate shoulder blades. Despite her young appearance, her features were hard enough that she could fein a few more years than first assumed, and her confidence and practised manner only made this easier. Dextrous and graceful hands groped for a vast fluffy towel as she slid out of the expansive bathtub, the spoils of the decadent middle class of the 2070's.

"Supper is ready, ma'am!" A charming british voice called from downstairs in the kitchen, the latest addition to her household. Robotics had come leaps and bounds since the clumsy early attempts in the 2010's. Gone were the stilted simulated speech patterns and bulky appendages - her own Mr. Handy was graceful, it's forey of limbs clicking and whirring over the kitchen stove or the living room floorboard, and it's own voice was only just a shade off of real human tone. She was still humming as she greeting her household companion with a nod and a small smile that softened her eyes, having donned a thick dressing gown.

"Good evening Edward," she said. The tin globe seemed to wiggle with pleasure at her recognition and before she had even taken her seat at the small dining table, he had served up her plate; fresh chicken breast and chargrilled vegetables in a light creamy sauce. It was almost too much, but she didn't know enough about Edwards programming to alter his cooking directives, and any orders she tried to give him to take it down a notch in terms of the richness of her food - especially after she had just woken up - were met with cries of "nonsense, ma'am!" and "it's all the rage in France!". What she wouldn't give for her mother's shepherd pie. But that was long ago and far away and she started on her food before nostalgia could get it's persuasive claws in her morning mood, while using her other hand to drag this evenings newspaper towards her over the table.

"You're expecting a visitor ma'am," Edward informed her, already bustling off back to the kitchen to clean up.

"Who?" she called after him, not looking up from the paper, fork halfway between the plate and her mouth, hair still damp from her bath.

"Mrs Samantha Bates. She wishes to purchase tutelage for her daughter, Jennifer."

"English or history? What grade?"

"English. The girl is preparing for her final examinations at Concord-Carlisle." The were a soft hum as he - she couldn't help thinking of it as a 'he' - floated close to the table again to deposit a cup of coffee; the first of the day.

"You told her to come by later this evening to book the first session?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good," she took a forkful of food. "Thank you. Anything else?"

"You have a letter from Madam Nneka, Ma'am."

Her eyes lit up and she held her hand out, her coffee already forgotten. He produced the envelope and she slit it open along the side with the sharp nail of her index finger, shaking it open and reading it with rapt attention, eating robotically, her entire focus taken up by her friends correspondence.

 _Dearest Katherine_

 _Once again my thoughts turn to you. How are you? How are the nights treating you? I am so glad that you have returned to teaching. That's wonderful news! I always knew that you were born for education. I remember your passion all those years ago when you left me for the first time. You and I were so eager to change the world in our own ways - though you needed a little pushing in the right direction, if I am remembering correctly! So much has changed since then. You and I both remember the days when my people would not have been able to even live on the same street as yours, but here we are, finally integrated - with a few exceptions, but even these enclaves are breaking down. Not fast enough, but it's happening._

 _Let's not dwell on that. We've had this conversation so many times before I can almost write your reply for you! We have to look forward, not retrace our steps yet again. I am well, and my new occupation at the District of Columbia Public Library allows me much time to read and more than a few opportunities to sneak in some more progressive literature. So many children come through, even late at night when my shift starts, cramming for their respective exams. It tickles me to give them advice on the history of our nation, seeing their confused faces. "How can you know all that?" they ask me. "It's like you were there!" I like to imagine that you find that as funny as I do. The real joy are those who come hungry for knowledge. I have had to stop myself spending all my time pouring over the books when I should be managing my staff._

 _How is Massachusetts? How does it feel to be home again? Although I don't know if it would still feel like home. It's hardly the old farmstead that it used to be, even when we were still living there together._

 _Do reply soon, my love. I can't wait to hear from you!_

 _Yours, now and always -_

 _Nneka_

 _P.S. I didn't want to include this in the main body of my letter because I honestly hoped not to have to write this down at all, but I simply must inform you of the situation. I am writing this sometime after I finished the letter above on the 25th of July. News have reached me of Azazel. His name has crept up among my network of nightwalkers and friends of ours. He's making moves to gain political power in the South-West. I will keep you up to date. Do not act and I beg you to stay where you are._

 _You are strong enough. I know it._

Katherine rushed through the letter, already forming a response in her mind, but by the time she got to the postscript, her eyes started to slow down. She had to read it twice, and the joy she had first felt to hear from her friend froze in her chest, leaving her ice cold. A kind of dread that she thought she had forgotten rise up in her throat like bile. She felt the blood drain from her face, but even as her hands began to tremble, she focused in on the last paragraph.

 _You are strong enough. I know it._

She had survived all this time, after all, hadn't she? As if it were becoming unstuck, she let out the breath that she had been holding, exhaling the anxiety that had been buzzing in her mind. She wasn't going to let this news leave her unable to function. Yes, it was a shock. Yes, she had believed (or rather she had hoped) that he was dead. But she had known, really, that as she had yet to see his cold dead body, the ugly business between them was not over. She would carry on. She always did. Only if he stepped back over the line into her life, would she give him a second thought.

"Edward, fetch my stationary. I would like to write my reply."

"Ma'am? Are you alright?" He had been watching her with his large glowing eye, twisting with his own anxiety as her face grew paperwhite and she abandoned her supper entirely. He seemed to jump a little when she addressed him in such a frigid tone, clicking his implements nervily.

She tried to relax, to soften her features and bring her facial expression under control. "Yes, Edward, I'm fine. Now fetch my pens and writing paper."

"Yes ma'am."

XXX

By half past eight o'clock that evening, Katherine was feeling steadier. Taking the anxiety from her heart and laying it out onto the paper - something she would do only for Nneka - seemed to mute it. When the doorbell rang at twenty-to-nine, she had dressed in a smart but unthreatening blouse and a skirt that fluttered just below the knee and thick black stockings, as well as disciplining her hair in a fashionable bun behind her head. Mrs Bates was an uptight looking woman of around forty or forty-five years old and a face that seemed too smooth for her age, lacking even laughter lines. Her hair arranged in perfect hollywood curls and her teeth were gleaming behind wide, professional lips. Katherine shook her hand.

"Good evening Mrs. Bates."

"Good evening, Miss… Markoff?"

"Markov. My family immigrated here before I was born," Katherine said by way of an explanation.

"I see."

"Is your daughter with you?"

"Yes, she's waiting in the car."

Katherine took this opportunity to look over Mrs. Bates shoulder to see the sleek pale blue automobile parked up against the pavement behind her. A young woman sat in the passenger seat looking straight ahead. Even at this distance, Katherine could see the expression on the girl's face, indifference on the surface, but a fair bit of irritation bubbling beneath, causing the lip to curl, the brow to frown. "Why don't you bring her in and we can discuss what stage she's at in her education and what kind of tutelage I can offer her?"

"Will this take long?" Mrs. Bates only just managed to keep the question on the right side of politeness.

"I apologise for the lateness of the hour," she said. "I have a skin condition that makes it impossible for me to operate in daylight hours. I'm sure you understand, and I am more than grateful for your indulgence." The lie slipped off her tongue with the ease that came from years of practise

This seemed to satisfy Mrs. Bates, and she turned to beckon her daughter out of the car with a silent harried gesture. It seemed that Miss Bates was pointedly ignoring her mother until the last possible moment before dragging herself out of the car, shutting the door perhaps a little too hard. Katherine stepped aside to let them both in and caught a curt whisper between them that would have normally been too low to hear.

"Jennifer, at least try!"

"Yes, mother."

Katherine had enough discretion to pretend not to notice. This was not out of the ordinary in her line of work. It was already coming up August, long after final exams in June, but not too late for resits in September. Jenny Bates was in her final year, according to Edward, so her mother was likely bringing her in her a last ditch attempt to pass the one class that would get her into this or that college, or possibly just to squeeze by enough to get a high school diploma.

She followed them through to the sitting room and offered them a seat on the sofa, while she sat opposite them in her favourite armchair, crossing her legs and leaning forward. She opened her mouth to introduce herself to her prospective pupil, but Mrs. Bates spoke first.

"Jennifer has failed her final English exam. I was able to convince her teachers to allow her to re-sit next month and we need to make sure that she get's a pass this time."

"That's what I'm here for. Was there any particular part of the exam that you found difficult, Jennifer?" She smiled at her, opening her hands in an invitation to join the conversation. Jennifer inhaled, but Mrs. Bates cut in.

"It's the critical analysis that she has trouble with. Her teachers tell me that she can't focus on the content of the lessons and that her essays go off on wild tangents. Her final essay didn't reflect the content of material given to her by her teacher and she didn't answer the exam question."

"I see," Katherine said, regarding Jennifer. "Is that right Miss Bates? Can I call you Jennifer?"

It was a mark of the kind of relationship that the two of them had that Jennifer waited a beat or two to see if her mother would speak first before saying; "Yes, Jenny's fine." Her face remained completely composed just like her mother's, a careful expression of gentle contrition and polite nervousness. "And it's just like my mother said. My final essay did not reflect the content of the material we were given in class."

Katherine couldn't be certain, but she thought she might have caught a hint of strain in the young woman's voice, as if this was a sentence she had had to repeat many times but that she didn't really believe. "Ok," she said. "I can certainly prepare you for your resit, Jenny. I've been tutoring for a while, and I'm sure we will be able to find a learning method that is right for you." She smiled.

"How often will you be able to see her?" Mrs. Bates asked.

"Twice, three times a week maybe. In the evenings, of course, 7pm until 9pm. It all depends on what's convenient for the both of you. Did Edward explain how much I charge?"

"Yes, he did. I think two nights a week would be best. Wednesday and Friday?"

"That sounds fine. I look forward to it."

Mrs. Bates stood up to leave, followed by her daughter, who looked very pleased to be heading home. It had hardly been worth inviting them inside. When Katherine was alone again, she called for her butler. "Edward, I'm going out. Expect me to return in an hour or so."

XXX

Every two weeks or so, give or take three or four days, Katherine took the short walk to Sanctuary Hills by moonlight to perform what Nneka called 'self-medication'. Nneka had all sorts of discrete, tasteful euphemisms for their 'condition', something that Katherine had teased her about in the past.

 _You make it sound like an illness,_ she would scoff.

 _Well, it's not normal_

 _It's normal. It's just not usual._

It was a subject that they had disagreed on in the past, once so profoundly that they hadn't spoken to each other for years before Katherine had finally reached out to apologise and remake their connection. Katherine saw their differences as something valuable, valid, something to be respected, that had it's place and deserved to be. Nneka on the other hand… Well, it affected her in more adverse ways than Katherine. It was a very isolating existence. Past persecution demanded secrecy and one could not form long lasting friendships based on lies, even lies of omision. Seeking other individuals like themselves had brought diminishing returns as the world caught up with it's modernity. Perhaps, Nneka reasoned, their kind just wasn't supposed to be a part of a world with fusion powered cars and electronic communication. But why? What was it about this time and place that was so unsuitable for them? She had said the same when factories sprung up across the country and the world started to keep time by the clock and not the sun in the sky, and then again when they had spoken over the telephone for the first time and then again when computer terminals become a semi-normal part of the middle class home. No, that argument meant nothing to Katherine. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing the world could throw at them that they were not designed to adapt to.

When she had met Nneka, they had both been pushing for socio-political changes on the either side of a divide. Being restricted to a nocturnal life endlessly frustrated the latter, who wished to attend rallies, meet with key figures and attend debates. She had always been a far more social creature than Katherine, who could go weeks at a time without speaking to anyone, and who had always been content with only one or two close friends. Furthermore, she found this business of 'self-medicating' to be too close to another kind of slavery for it to ever be ethically viable in her eyes. It was stealing to her, using human beings' bodies without their consent, an issue that would never be settled between them. Katherine reasoned that it was a mutually beneficial evolutionary co-incidence. The crocodile doesn't eat the birds that pick the insects from their teeth and scales, and some parasites lived on humans and animals alike their entire lifespans without doing harm, and without the knowledge of the host. This was just another example in the animal kingdom where one species behavior is unknowingly convenience for another. Humans provided the means for them to go on living, while they silently protected, respected and enabled humans in the wings.

As with everything else, Nneka disliked the terminology that had become increasingly popular among both their kind and the humans that didn't know they existed. 'Vampire' was tasteless, and put her in mind of cartoon villains and outlandish pulp fiction. Katherine, on the other hand, figured that if the shoe fits…

She took blood from a sleeping man in one of the identical little detached bungalows. No one locked their doors in this kind of neighbourhood and she could creep in and take what she needed without waking anyone. It was harmless, and at worst the gentleman would wake up with a small scratch on his neck just below the jaw that he could conclude must be self-inflicted. It was nothing to the humans she fed from, but to her, it was the difference between immortality and terminal rapid aging that would see her a withered corpse in three or four months. If it was a violation, like Nneka insisted it was, it was such a small crime in exchange for their continued health that Katherine concluded that it was negligible.

Katherine had been born the January of 1763, and was three hundred and fourteen years old by this point in 2077.


	2. Chapter 2

**_86_**

It was Friday, and her new pupil wouldn't be starting until the following week, which gave Katherine more than enough time to prepare. She instructed Edward to leave a message on the Bates answering machine, letting them know that she would require a copy of Jennifer's final essay as well as any notes her high school teacher had made. Next, she spent the first part of the night scouring her apartment for her own copy of _Nineteen Eighty-Four_ , only to remember that she had given it away some sixty or seventy years ago to a favored fellow university graduate in California. She, therefore, had to order Edward to pick her up a copy from the bookstore in town so that she could sift through the text and re-familiarize herself with it until she could speak on it with confidence.

In the meantime, the matter of Nneka's letter weighed on her mind.

 _He is making moves to gain political power in the South-West._

Why? For what possible reason would he be trying to cultivate power among humans? And why in the South-West commonwealths? Cinema newsreels were only preoccupied with local news, and the holotapes that she set to record radio broadcasts proved useless when she realized that he would of course be going under an alias, and therefor she wouldn't be able to recognize him unless she actually saw his face. She tried to watch television news but this was equally frustrating because she could only watch broadcasts after dark, a time when most channels shut down for the night. The only exception were late night talk shows, more interested in celebrity gossip than politics. She cursed Nneka for giving her so little information.

It was only on Monday of the following week that she saw his picture in the paper, quite by chance, under National News. He was dressed well in a pale suit, his fingers steepled under a very serious expression. The black and white photograph may not have been able to show her the color of the panel behind him, but it didn't make a difference to the man at the center of it. His white skin, jet hair and steel-grey eyes would have been just the same if the camera man had had the full spectrum of visible colors at his disposal. The last time she had seen him, his hair had been messy and loose, not oiled back as it was here, but even so there was no mistaking those eyes, that grim expression.

 _Candidate for Governor of Nevada, Bill Grave, Reveals his Plans for Healthcare Funding._

Grave? Really? Katherine would have laughed at the heavy-handed pseudonym if his sudden appearance hadn't shocked her like it did. It was only a step above Azazel, the scapegoat, the one who takes the fall for the sins of humanity. The thought of this man taking on the identity of the punished innocent had always sickened her and she could only imagine what joy he must derive from using 'grave' as a metaphor - a metaphor of what she didn't quite know yet. The article was less than one hundred and fifty words long.

 _Bill 'the Butcher' Grave announced his plans early Sunday afternoon to make significant cuts to the healthcare budget for the state of Nevada. Speaking to our reporter outside Desert Springs Medical Center, he expressed his disappointment in the current allocation of tax dollars in this sector. "It should be going back to the people," he told us. "Instead, I see it go towards extortionate drugs that have inconsistent success in treating disease, and the rest straight into the pockets of corrupt doctors." The cuts are predicted to bring taxes in the area down by as much as 2%, but critics of his policies have pointed out that the cost of care for patients might rise dramatically as drugs and treatments become scarce._

Katherine's eyes narrowed. She had her suspicions on why he would have embraced the nickname of 'The Butcher', given to him by supporters no doubt because of how he was carving chunks out of budgets left and right.

She tried to tell herself that it didn't matter really. He was all the way over there, on the other side of the country, after all, and it didn't seem to her that he was all that interested in her at the moment. The idea of him having any kind of power certainly did not appeal to her, but if he had been elected fairly by the people of Nevada, then what business of it was her if they were making questionable decisions in leadership. Live and let live, right? He could do what he liked, and he wasn't stopping her going about her daily business, so why worry about it.

Even so, trying to put this out of her mind felt like going about with her front door wide open. Most residents forwent locking their doors anyway - but everyone would still at least close their doors, because an open door may as well be an invitation.

XXX

 ** _80_**

"Well, now that we've finally gotten your mother out of the way… "

It was 7:30 pm. As they were at the beginning of August, it was only just starting to get safer for Katherine to rise a little earlier, and even at this late hour, the sun was only just setting and she felt groggy and lethargic. She had just started on her morning coffee when Mrs. Bates rapped on her door, causing her to jump. Sighing, she stepped up to the door, checked her face in the hallway mirror, and assumed her best professional smile, before opening the door and letting both of them in. She had tried to keep their preliminary conversation brief, offering to get started immediately whiles Mrs. Bates processed payment with Edward, hoping to fob off the woman. It wasn't until 8:00 pm however, that Katherine was successful in assuring Mrs. Bates that Jennifer was safe in her hands, and that she would personally drive the girl home in time for bed, complete with homework for their next session. Even so, Mrs. Bates had a terse word with her daughter just before she left, when she thought that they were out of earshot of Katherine, implying not so subtly that there would be hell to pay of Jennifer ended up wasting her mother's money.

Katherine's flippant remark drew a small nervous smile from Jenny, who was sitting on Katherine's sofa with her hands folded on her lap.

"Would you like some coffee, Jenny? Tea?"

Jenny mumbled a tiny 'no', cleared her throat and said more firmly; "No, thank you."

She was a pretty girl, wearing her a classy but practical blouse that was tailored to pinch her waist, and a skirt that stopped tastefully just above her knees. As much as these clothes were expensive and well selected, it was clear that Jenny was uncomfortable in them, shifting and fidgeting with the hem of the skirt, tugging and adjusting her woolen pantyhose. Her make-up was similar, well chosen for her dark complexion, but applied a little too heavily around the eyes, which were big, wide and a rich warm brown. Her hair was black and, like the rest, well cut but haphazardly and hurriedly styled in fashionable curls.

Katherine took her seat opposite Jenny in her armchair and patted the book lying between them on the coffee table.

"Right, so let us get down to it then. Did you bring your essay with you like I asked?"

Jenny produced the essay, some five sheets of neat, if hurried handwriting, complete with teacher's notes and feedback written in red ink. It only took her a two or three minutes to scan through it, and she was aware of Jenny attempting to hide her anxiety with a nonchalant posture and apparent disinterest, looking out the window into the street.

"Interesting interpretation," Katherine commented, and Jenny's head snapped back to gaze at her as if she were suspicious that Katherine may be lying to her. "However, it's not developed enough. There's a lot of strong emotive language here, which might not be appropriate given that it's a critical essay - and your teacher is right, you could work on your sentence structure." She looked up at Jenny with a knowing expression. "But that's not why you failed, was it?"

Jenny looked away once more, putting on a bored air again. Katherine decided that she would have to answer her own question.

"You didn't copy down the question, but I imagine it was something like ' _The novel Nineteen Eighty-Four, by George Orwell is a satire depicting a totalitarian regime. Explain how Big Brother and the Party are paralleled in global politics today, and what we can learn from a dystopia such as the one characterized in the book."_ Something like that?"

Jenny nodded, still not looking at Katherine.

"Only you wrote about the wrong country, didn't you."

Jenny's composure cracked ever so slightly, and Katherine could see her upper lip curl in a sneer. "I know they wanted me to write about how awful it is in China."

"The People's Republic of China isn't exactly paradise."

"I know that!" Jenny snapped. There was a pause. Jenny seemed to realize that she had raised her voice when she hadn't meant to, and shut her mouth, turning back to the window, her cheeks rosy. Katherine sensed that this was one of those conversations that Jenny had had one too many times. She tried another tact.

"However," she said, putting stress on the word; "You're not wrong when you compare the actions of the Ministry of Truth to the state of America's press, and how they manufacture rage and anxiety to keep the populace focused on scandal and not wider social and political issues. Not patriotic - but not _wrong._ " Unconsciously, the image of Bill 'the Butcher' Grave floated to the forefront of her mind, but she shoved it back again before she could get distracted.

Jenny's face slackened, and she turned back, finally putting her attention on Katherine, but with the same suspicion as before.

"The parallels between Airstrip One and the PRC are more obvious. You could easily write five or six pages and still only cover the broad strokes, but do you see how the comparison you're trying to make here is a lot more subtle. You're going to have to deepen your research, and really dig a lot deeper than you have been, which I appreciate would be somewhat difficult. Writers who criticize America's political systems aren't exactly popular."

Jenny was sitting forward now, listening intently, the uncertainty in her face giving way to a timid kind of excitement. Katherine went on.

"Of course, you're going to have to rewrite this, but correctly. It doesn't matter how well researched you are, how articulate or persuasive. No teacher is going to mark this favorably if you are attacking your own nation."

"It's _correct_ as it is," Jenny growled. Her face had fallen into a scowl.

Katherine made a gesture with her hand like a see-saw. "Mostly. But it is not what they wanted when they wrote the question."

"The question is stupid."

Katherine had to stop herself from snorting. "Perhaps, but let me explain something to you. There are always going to be times in life when you have to tell people what they want to hear."

"Even if it's dishonest?" Jenny challenged her.

"Saying that the PRC is a totalitarian society isn't dishonest."

"Some information is more useful than others. Everyone knows life in China is bad, but maybe people should be taking a closer look at themselves. What if I have something to say? What if I don't want to regurgitate what's in the textbook?"

Katherine pursed her lips and leaned back in her armchair. She wanted to scold this young woman. Jenny was hardly breaking new ground here - there were plenty of authors in her library that criticized the American system, all the way from the essays of the 17th Century to contemporary journalists. This bold statement that she was so desperate to wave around like flag was a waste of time in the Massachusetts educational system. She wasn't going to change anything, or even really shock anyone, just annoy a few markers. She wasn't failing because her teachers didn't want to see the truth, she was failing because she wasn't falling into the perfect role that was laid out for the youth of the country. At this young stage, rebellion would only cause her trouble. If only she would be satisfied to wait until college…

" _Have you ever considered that not everyone sees the world as you do?"_

She took a breath. Nneka's words came to her, soft and persistent. When they were first spoken, they hadn't been gentle, they had been sharp barbs that had silenced her. She took a breath.

" _People aren't born with the experience of an adult, let alone an immortal, Katherine. And for all your years, you still haven't realized that your privilege isn't freedom from slavery, but the freedom to go on believing that you have nothing more to learn. You haven't once tried to_ understand! _Think about the things that don't you know that would change your mind!"_

She forced herself back into the shoes of a seventeen year old girl. It might not be the first time in history someone has cast a critical eye on America, but it was the first time for Jenny. Katherine's first revolution, her first war, her first love, her first death; it was always vibrant like blood the first time.

"Ok," she said, forcing her voice to remain calm. "What you're trying to say here in this essay, it's important to you - I mean, it's important. It's worth writing, but let's divide our priorities. Clearly, you care more about speaking your mind than passing this exam."

"And what if I do?" Jenny's eyes flashed with hot defiance.

"But you want to keep your mother off your back?"

Jenny looked down, sulking.

"And you can do that by passing this exam."

"Yes but - "

"Listen to me!" Katherine interrupted, her voice sharp.

" _Don't demand to be heard until you have listened to every word we have to say."_

" _Damnit! I am not saying anything that isn't true!"_

" _Your truth means nothing when you speak over us. You're doing just as good a job of silencing us as the ones who keep our people in chains."_

She stopped, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger. Jenny was glaring at her. "I'm sorry. Go ahead."

Now that she had been given priority in the conversation, Jenny flushed with embarrassment, her anger now inappropriate. With nowhere for it to go, it simmered behind her eyes, ready to bubble up again at a moment's notice. "I'm just so sick of saying words that were put in my mouth by someone else."

"I know," she replied when she was sure that Jenny wasn't going to say anything more. "I would be frustrated too. It sounds like you've had to tow the line for a little too long."

Now the heat had been taken out from under her, Jenny went back to staring out the window, blinking.

"I'll help you," Katherine continued. "I'll tell you how to write the essay that they want you to write so that you pass your exam, but I want you to develop this one," she tapped the failed essay. "This is the compromise that I propose. Speak your mind here, and I'll show you how to better express yourself in writing, but write their paint-by-numbers essay in the exam hall."

"Are you serious?" Jenny was regarding her with hesitant interest.

"Yes. Education isn't just about passing exams. If I am going to be your teacher, I have a responsibility to support your independent learning as well as complying with the state."

Jenny's lips twitched a little as a smile threatened to break out on her face. "Ok. Deal."

"Right. Now that we've reached an agreement, there are some books that I would recommend you read. You're unlikely to find them in your high school library and I can lend you the one's that you can't find in the Free Public Library. I want you to do some solid research and rewrite the essay with proper citations…"

They spent the next hour going through the first half of her essay point by point while Katherine noted down a reading list. They agreed that from then on, Wednesday would be the day where they would discuss and craft her personal essay, and Friday would be the day to construct the exam-friendly essay. Jenny, much as Katherine had suspected, had a lot to say and as the conversation went on, she became more and more invested and Katherine had to work hard to keep the conversation on task and not give in to the attractive desire to go off on a tangent, complaining about this and that shortcoming of government or this or that societal construct. Jenny was like a cracked pipe, straining under the pressure of the ideas and free expression available to her here in Katherine's living room, gushing and bubbling fit to burst, but every time she came close to overflowing, she caught herself and withdrew, trailing off just as her passion was about to get the best of her.

Edward brought Katherine her coat and she noticed the time. Getting up, she heard Jenny stammer into silence once again even though she hadn't interrupted to told her to stop talking.

"It's time for me to drive you home," she said, taking her coat from Edward and shrugging it over her shoulders. "Come on, you can finish your thought in the car."

"It's ok," Jenny mumbled, and Katherine didn't press.

They drove the fifteen or so minutes to uptown Concord in silence. She pulled up to the pavement outside the Bates residence and without a word, Jenny opened the passenger door and made to climb out.

"See you on Friday," Katherine said, smiling in what she hoped was a casually friendly manner.

"Yeah," Jenny smiled back, pausing halfway out the car. "See you."

XXX

" _So what am I supposed to do? I've spoken up against the landowners, I have come down here to try and help, and you're telling me that I'm not welcome! Am I just to do nothing? Go home and pretend that I never saw this injustice?"_

" _As if it's up to you to do anything! As if it's your place to come down here and save us like some kind of hero! If you so desperately need to cleanse your soul of the guilt you feel, then go home. Talk of what you see down here, educate your people. White ears only have time for white voices, so go use yours and make a difference that way."_

" _They won't listen to me!"_

" _The adults won't perhaps. They're happy to keep their heads in the sand. But children… They haven't made up their minds. Get them when they are young and open their eyes before age and day to day strife seal them shut forever."_

" _I will make more of a difference here!"_

" _No! You won't! … I can sense you're a compassionate soul, Katherine. I know you want to ease the suffering you see here. I know you want to do good, but you are a hypocrite if you think that you can grant us autonomy like God granted life to the lowly Adam. Do you see? Some part of you still thinks that you're better than us, that only you can fix our problems. You need to fix your own problems first. Get into education - get into the system! Fix your own society, and I'll repair what your people have broken in mine."_

" _..."_

" _...Katherine."_

" _I'm sorry."_

" _I know."_


	3. Chapter 3

**Spring 1925**

Katherine might as well have been made of stone. The sun had gone, and with it all the warmth of the day. She was huddled in the passenger seat of the Ford, an old blanket wrapped around her. Her eyes downcast, her rising and falling chest and anxious fingers fraying the edge of the blanket the only moving parts of her. There was that heavy feeling in her face that comes just before weeping, but she wasn't able to cry. She was all dried up. Normally, she wouldn't have been able to feel the cold, but in her condition, it turned her limbs to lead. The temptation to stay where she was - moving was so difficult, so energy draining - was powerful.

Nneka was leaning against the hood of the automobile, her arms folded, staring up at the big farm house. Katherine watched her with dead eyes. Though her face remained expressionless, Katherine felt a warmth melt the heavy ice behind her face and tears started to wet the corner of her eyes once more. Nneka was the one thing that reminded Katherine that there could still be life before death. She wanted to say something, to let Nneka know that she was still here, behind the stone, behind the grief, that she would remember every time Nneka had reminded her to feed, had urged her out of bed in the evening, had reiterated again and again that the steady pace and beat of life would go on, unstopping, and that Katherine must keep pace or be left behind.

"I'm sorry," was all she managed to say, when really what she meant was 'thank you'.

Nneka looked at her, turning her head so that the moonlight caught off her sharp cheekbones. Her expression was both sad and affectionate, like a mother, and Katherine looked away, unable to tolerate feeling like a child.

"Let's go in," Nneka said. "We need to unpack."

"I can't… the books…"

"I'll unpack the books. You can take care of the clothes. Ok?"

Katherine was silent. The car seat was so comfortable, the blanket so warm. If she were to move, then the cold would seep in. She could almost convince herself that she could simply stay there, unmoving, forever.

But no. It was time to get up.

With stiff limbs and fingers, she snapped open the car door and clambered out, looking small and pathetic in her blanket. Nneka reached out to take her hand and Katherine took it, letting her friend lead her up the driveway to what was now the third rebuild of her family home, and now her asylum from the world and it's horrors.

Time seemed to stand still here, as if it were bubbled off from the world. When she was here, every day felt like the last, and she couldn't imagine a time after tomorrow. She could live here, reading and doing chores, as if no time had passed since her twelfth birthday. At the moment, and for quite some time after, she would be too fragile to do much else. Nneka would wait, would share her bed, would cook for her and drive with her down to the city to sell their harvest and wait on her while she took blood. She would let Katherine lay her head on her lap while she read or listened to radio broadcasts.

When the holes in her heart, left there by the war, were so large and gaping that she couldn't breath, Nneka held her. So she lived, one day at a time, picking about the rubble that used to be her identity, a whole and steadfast castle. The Great War had beaten at it like a storm, wearing it's walls smooth, cracking the battlements, weakening its foundations. The loss of Alexus had destroyed it utterly, leaving her an empty shell, airless, lifeless, helpless. While Katherine walked about like a zombie, it was Nneka who took control of Alexus' estate, liquidating it, arranging the passage back to America, claiming their final war wages and Alexus' pension for Katherine and retaking her old home north of Boston.

Despite the months of respite, with no greater concern than running the farm, Katherine made little, if any, progress at all. For every moment when she felt like she could break the surface of the pain, there were three more when she could curl up at dawn, shaking, unable to breath for the weight on her chest. Time passed. A few months became years, and still Katherine didn't have the strength to function, to break free of whatever was holding her under. Nneka, being the kind of woman that needed to give every phenomenon a scientifically medically correct term, called it 'depression' and 'posttraumatic stress disorder', but to Katherine, it was simply the sensation of drowning on land, with a constant ache in her lungs that reminded her of suffocation.

"I can't do this anymore," she stated one evening over the dinner table to Nneka. Her words had a kind of finality that comes from the hopeless. She said it as casually as if she had asked what food was going to be served, but her voice rang hollow. Nneka had been patient, had been supportive, had given much of her time to caring for Katherine with a mother's dedication, but the melodrama in this simple statement was too much. She looked up at Katherine and saw her for the first time in what was well over a hundred years, not as the soldier that had stood by her side under hails of bullets, not as the intellectual who debated over expensive french coffee in Alexus' study, but as the privileged do-gooder farm girl who had come to her to liberate the slaves of the South from their very chains.

"And what, dearest, is it that you cannot do anymore?" She asked, knowing full well the answer. The tone in her voice implied that she was speaking to a child who has refused to eat their vegetables.

Katherine's eyes finally focused on her and narrowed, her upper lip lifting in a scowl that showed her front teeth. "I have been walking from day to day, struggling, fighting, and I'm still here, it still hurts. It's never going to go away and I don't see why I should get up in the evening when every day is going to be the same. If this is what I have to look forward to, stretching out in front of me, why not end it?"

She said this with a false air of calm, as if she were presenting an academic argument, but Nneka didn't miss the scratch of desperation in that voice.

"Katherine," she said, her voice hardening ever so slightly; "when we were in the trenches, why did you get up every night? You took on the worst of it, slogging in the mud and the blood, facing the brunt of every hopeless march across that wasteland, day in and day out. Every day, the same, another murder here, another suicide there, another lost child cut down before he finished school. It was dark times, my friend, but you would not stop. You took more punishment and threw yourself at more pain than any creature, moral or no, would be able to stand in their lifetimes. Every evening, you got out of your bloody hole in the ground and stood beside those lost boys. And now…? All you have to do is live and breath and you can't stand to do even that anymore? All you have to do is be."

"What? Are you telling me to get over it?" Katherine was on her feet now, hissing like an angry cat, every hair on her body standing on end. "Just put it behind me as if it were nothing?"

"Of course not. What I'm trying to tell you, dear, is that now is the time for healing, not for fighting. If you are fighting every day to stay alive, then you're not doing it right!"

"So I should just hang myself and be done with it." She turned away, all anger simmering down into that empty listlessness.

"Are you not listening to me?"

"You are not listening to me!" Katherine snapped. "How can I start again? I've lost everything that I fought for. Our friends, my… my partner. Across the ocean in Europe, the whole world is falling apart and you expect me to keep it together?"

"That's a ridiculous comparison!" Nneka exclaimed.

"I had a life before that war, a future, a lover, friends, a family, a home. They took that away from me just like the took the lives and futures of every kid who lied about his age so he could impress his friends. I'm fucking done, Nneka. It's over. I should have died in that war and the life that I am living now is an insult to the god who wanted me dead."

"You don't believe in God!"

"You know they say that about us? That we're dead? Walking dead, living dead - I'm not even a living person any more. I might as well be dead. There's nothing to live for anyway and I'm just stuck here, floating around, doing nothing, helping no one - a non-entity that is as good as if it didn't exist. There is no growth here, no progress, and the life I had before may as well be nothing but wasted time!"

"Katherine, sit down!"

She had been shouting, Katherine realised, pacing the length of the dinner table and back again, her hands clenched into fists so tight that she had broken the skin on her palm with her nails. Her throat hurt. Her voice had reached such a hysterical pitch that the back of her mouth felt like it had been shredded with a cheese grater. Tears stung her face. Her head pounded. Nneka was breathing hard as if she had just sprinted from one end of the one hundred and fifty acre farm to the other and the sudden boom of her shouted order caused Katherine's tirade to crumble as effectively as if she had been slapped in the face. Immediately shame blossomed from the back of her neck, spreading across her face like a fever.

Nneka retook her own seat. There was a terrible silence between the two for several painful seconds. Finally; "What did you do last night?"

"Excuse me?" Katherine raised her eyes from the floor, bemused.

"Tell me, what did you do last night?"

"I… uh…" she swallowed, her voice sounding so small and timid after the agitated volume it had reached before. "I read, I think, at the start of the evening. And then, I left letters for our daytime overseer, letting him know that we needed to order more fertilizer from the city. Then, I looked at the pamphlets you brought in, the ones about the automated milking machines, and then we ate and talked about money and then I cleaned the kitchen and set traps for the - "

"'I'm just stuck here, floating around, doing nothing, helping no one'," Nneka echoed savagely. Katherine shut her mouth, gritting her teeth, eyes flaring up with anger once more. She didn't speak again however, as Nneka continued. "Katherine, you won't stop. Your existence is action, you're being is doing. I know it feels like you're just treading water, like you're only just ever keeping your head above the quicksand, but every single night you run this farm, you contribute to our living, adapt to new technology, deal with new people. I know you feel like you have lost everything, that your wealth of experience, of learning and growing and fighting were obliterated in the shellfire, but you are running this farm using skills you learned in your childhood. You are living every day with the strength and intelligence you have cultivated over hundreds of years. Are you truly starting again when you have that amount of lessons learned, of battles won, of wealth gathered behind you, a lifelong development that would literally not be possible for any ordinary human?"

Katherine didn't respond, but her eyes and softened, and fresh tears wetted her cheeks again.

"Life is not a game of Snakes and Ladders. As much as you believe that what you've built has been shattered, it hasn't - and every single day you're adding another layer of bricks and mortar. Nothing, not even a war, can break the foundation for your future that is your past. And you will never stop building. You may not believe this, but resting, healing, they are just as constructive and valuable as striving and fighting. Simply by being, you are growing."

Nneka stopped speaking, regarding Katherine with an expression that was half way between exasperation and affection. Once again, silence fell between them, but it was a gentle, thoughtful silence.

Eventually, Katherine croaked; "I'm sorry."

Nneka shook her head. "No. I will not indulge your apology."

A very weak, tremulous smile tugged at the corners of Katherine's lips. "I meant… thank you."

Nneka smiled back. "I know."

XXX

 **57**

"I'm sorry."

"Why do you apologize?" Katherine asked, sitting across the dinner table from Jenny. She was smiling, accepting her third cup of coffee from Edward. She found that she was enjoying the girls company more and more. There was something so refreshing about hearing all these big and old ideas coming from someone who had only just discovered them, as if they were fresh and new all over again. It had been some weeks since their very first session together and Jenny was a fast and passionate worker, having already drafted and redrafted both essays. There were still some polishing to do for the resit exam in mid-September, but both of them were confident that if she wrote the fake essay they had agreed on, it would be an easy pass. Jenny would still grumble occasionally that she had to work on the fake essay at all, but in the end, as Katherine had suspected, the freedom to rant and speak freely in front of Katherine, as well as write the critical essay that she actually cared about was a fair tradeoff in the end.

However, Jenny still had this peculiar habit. She would start to speak about one aspect or another of the real essay, interest lighting up in her eyes. The conversation would flow and turn naturally in tangents which Katherine encouraged. Jenny would openly and happily share her thoughts and opinions, becoming more and more animated until she reached some sort of peak, some point that really mattered, only to close up like a turtle retreating into its shell and mumble an embarrassed apology, assuming the same expression that Katherine had seen on her when her mother was dropping her off for her biweekly sessions. She had never pressed the issue, but rather had let Jenny trail off. Katherine had also noticed that when Mrs. Bates had come to pick her daughter up from their sessions, Jenny would abruptly stop speaking as soon as there was a knock on the door, even if she were halfway through a sentence.

"I don't know," Jenny said. "I guess… well, I know people don't normally like to hear me talk about this sort of stuff. I shouldn't get so excited…" She wasn't looking at Katherine.

"And who tells you that?"

"I don't know… just people. My mum. My teachers…"

"You know you can talk in front of me," Katherine said, making a subtle motion as if she were going to reach across the table and touch her hand, but thinking better of it. "Come on, what was it you were about to say?"

Jenny gave a timid sheepish smile and opened her mouth to speak. There was a knock on the door. As quickly as if she had been burned, she shut her mouth again, flushing. "Never mind…" she muttered. Katherine frowned, a little irritated. Standing, she went to get the door, and sure enough, it was Mrs. Bates come to fetch her daughter. As soon as she saw the woman, a million intrusive thoughts buzzed in her mind like tiny bees. What kind of relationship did these two have that Jenny could not bear to speak freely in front of her? What had happened between mother and daughter that the argumentative opinionated person that Katherine knew become meek and timid.

It was never her place to stick her nose in where she wasn't welcome. Nneka had taught her that all those years ago. She couldn't fix every single problem she saw, mend every tense relationship, render every home happy and safe, no matter how she felt. Even so, there were little things that she could do from her corner.

"Mrs. Bates, I must apologise, but I'm afraid that we're not quite finshed yet."

"Excuse me?" Mrs. Bates stood in the doorway, looking every bit like she was going to tell Katherine just how inconvenient it was to drive all the way here and back when really she had far more important things that she could be doing.

"I know, I really am sorry. I know we normally finish up around nine, but what with the resits so close, Jenny really is anxious to continue working on her introductory paragraph. I don't mind staying up a little later, especially as I think that extended sessions might be something she would benefit from. Oh, but - " she interjected, seeing that Mrs. Bates was about to burst with protest. " - please don't worry about the cost. I would be happy to cover the extra hours myself. It really is a pleasure to tutor your daughter. She's working so hard and I do think that staying an extra hour or two per week would not only help your daughter pass, but pass well." She treated Mrs. Bates to a winning smile. There was a pause. "And of course, I'll drive her home every night so you don't have to come out so late."

With every possible avenue of argument covered, Mrs. Bates face worked as she mentally picked over everything that was said. Katherine could see each excuse rise up and fade in turn as Mrs. Bates searched for a way to take control of the situation.

"Well, it would have been better if you had let me know she would be staying a little later in advance, that way I wouldn't have to drive out here."

"I understand," Katherine was the face of pained contrition. "We only just discussed it tonight. How does 10pm sound? Too late?"

"No," Mrs. Bates conceded. "It's ok. So long as it's not any later than that."

Katherine sensed Jenny behind her, her coat half on, watching from the entrance to the hallway. "Of course, Mrs. Bates. Thanks for coming by. We'll just finish up here and I'll get Jenny back home at ten."

"Right," Mrs Bates seemed to be accepting the situation with the grace of someone convincing themselves that it was their idea from the beginning. "Ok. See to is that Jennifer makes the most out of this extra time."

"Don't worry, I will. Goodnight." she waited until Mrs Bates had walked down the driveway to her car before closing the door and turning back to Jenny.

"So - what was it that you were saying?"

Jenny beamed, shrugging off her coat. "Well, I've been thinking a lot about…"


	4. Chapter 4

_**36**_

Summer was rapidly falling away. Katherine wasn't quite waking up in complete darkness yet, but it was getting there. The sky was a deep teal colour as she combed out her hair and dressed, and she was comfortable leaving the curtains open as she set up what they might need for tonight. It was nice to have this breathing space before Jenny came round. The short summer nights had meant that Katherine had barely had time to get herself together.

Sunlight wouldn't kill her right away. Her skin seemed to react to the ultraviolet radiation much in the same way human skin did, only at a far accelerated rate. Within an hour, she would be blistered, and would find it difficult to move without pain. In two hours, the outer layer of her body, her skin, fat and the surface tissue of her muscle would cook through, but even then, she may survive if she found shelter and rested for four or five nights in safety. In three hours, she would succumb, her body slow roasted and fragile. This time out in the daylight could be elongated through the use of a heavy cloak or constant coverage in the shadow of a building, but even so, the light from the sun blinded her, and the resulting headaches and discomfort would render her vulnerable. Best to avoid it entirely.

Katherine didn't know why this happened, or how to prevent it. People like her were not exactly represented in the medical or scientific community, so it was unlikely that she would get an explanation any time soon. Like most of her kind, she had taken to the study of medicine and biology herself in search for answers, but as an individual, or even a small team of four or five of them, it was slow progress. All of that was brought to a halt, however, when two world wars had wiped out all but herself and Nneka, leaving them to flee to America and pick up whatever pieces were left of their lives. She had never seen more than seven people with her condition in the same room together, though she had reason to believe that there may as many as one or two hundred globally, living their secret lives, perhaps believing that they were unique and alone. There could have been more at one point or another in history but, for all of Katherine's life, immortal companionship was few and far between.

As for being immortal, she didn't know if she actually was. Alexus had been alive for one and a half thousand years before she had met him, and Nneka had two hundred years more than Katherine under her belt. Neither of them had reported any symptoms that come with natural human aging after they had been infected. They certainly weren't invincible. They were hardier than humans, but disease, starvation, drowning, beheading, suffocation, poison, exposure to sunlight, freezing and being crushed to death were all viable ways to end her life. Enough bullets could take them down if the gunman was dedicated or skilled enough. If they didn't consume human blood, they would age rapidly and wither away within months. If she were injured, she would also heal swiftly and be better equipped to fight infection. Everything seemed to happen either in a very condensed period of time, or continued on indefinitely for her kind.

Edward served her coffee and she thanked him, smiling. "Has there been any letters?" she asked, in what she hoped was a casual way. Edward would never comment on it, but she was asking him more and more recently, each time sounding less and less unconcerned. In fact, worry had settled in the pit of her stomach, and it flared up once more when he gave her a sad look - tilting his visors down at an angle and dropping just a few centimetres in mid air.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. I'm afraid that there hasn't been any mail this morning."

She nodded, pursing her lips, reading the newspaper as if it were really nothing, while her insides tied themselves in knots.

There was a knock at the front door.

Katherine stood, putting her anxiety aside and tying her hair up as she padded down the hallway in her socks. They were going to have a relaxed evening tonight, she had decided. She opened the door and found Jenny standing here, shivering, her backpack sagging with heavy books and school supplies on her shoulders, cradling yet more books in her arms. Katherine could see Mrs. Bates drive away after waiting to make sure that Jenny had been greeted at the door, and, fighting not to roll her eyes, reached out to take the books off her hands.

"You won't need these tonight," she chuckled.

"You could have told me!" Jenny groaned, letting her backpack fall to the floor with a thud. "And anyway, what do you mean, I won't need them?"

"Well, I thought," Katherine explained, leading her into the living room to reveal bowls of Mr. Mushy ice cream and frosty bottles of Nuka-cola on her coffee table; "that we'd take it easy tonight. You've been working very hard, and honestly, I think you should be happy with both your essays. You're more than ready to resit your exam next week. Studying is important, but it's just as important to take a break every so often."

Jenny's eyes lit up. "Are you serious?" she exclaimed. "What are we going to be doing then if we're not working?"

Katherine flourished a holotape. "I have a recording that I bought from the comic book store - " In fact, it had been Edward who had picked up the holotape, as he did most of the errands that needed to be done during the daytime " - _The Silver Shroud:_ Episode 6. I thought that we could listen to it."

" _The Mechanist Unmasked!"_ Jenny gasped. "That's the one where - "

"Don't spoil it," Katherine interrupted, grinning and waggling her finger. "I haven't heard this one yet."

Jenny took her seat on the sofa, smiling shyly, clearly embarrassed at how excited she must appear. "Mother doesn't like me listening to it," she said, in way of an explanation. "She says that it's just pulpy rubbish. She would prefer I listen to classical music or the radio sermons of Reverend Justin." She couldn't keep the derision from her voice and Katherine failed to stop herself rolling her eyes this time. This made Jenny's smile return and she covered a giggle with her hand.

"Help yourself to the ice cream, it's for you," Katherine said, waving Edward over. She had struggled to find a way to play the holotape in the living room. She could hardly drag her terminal all the way through from upstairs, so she had found a creative way to improvise a kind of speaker system, using Edward, who was kind enough to consent. She had unscrewed the back of the terminal and opened it up, finding the sound output and connecting it to the electronic "voicebox" of the Mr. Handy with a extra long cable that Edward and collected from the hardware store. Despite the fact that at one point she had only narrowly avoided electrocution, she was rather proud of her handy work, even finding a way to have the robot interface with the computer. That part had taken quite a few attempts and blundering through the terminals programming to make a timid alteration here and there. She was therefore able to excuse herself while Jenny decided which bowl of ice cream she would like to load up the holotape on the open terminal in her bedroom, and return to the living room where Edward was hovering.

"Edward, dear, could you start the playback?"

"Yes Ma'am," he confirmed, and the next sounds they heard weren't the polite British tone of the robot, but the voice of the Silver Shroud, deep and masculine over a recording of crackling flames; " _Dangling over a pit of fire. Reminds me of our adventure against Chelsea Mangler, eh Mistress?"_

Jenny applauded, grinning from ear to ear. Katherine shushed her, smiling herself and reaching for her own bowl of ice cream. She noticed that Jenny hadn't touched her Nuka-cola and she inclined her head towards it, raising her eyebrows. Jenny blushed and whispered; "Aren't those full of sugar?" during a pause in the action.

"Of course they are," Katherine replied, setting her ice cream on the arm of the sofa so she could reach over and take both bottles, holding them out to Edward who opened them with a click and a sigh as the gas escaped. She then handed out to Jenny and they toasted, Jenny giggling again with the pleasure of breaking another one of her mother's little rules. They listened to the recording and Katherine could sense Jenny was grinning, her legs tucked beneath her on the sofa after Katherine had told her to take her shoes off, and she found herself wondering how often the girl got to kick back and relax.

The episode ended with a dramatic one liner and a gunshot that caused both of them to jump and then snort at each other, Jenny choking as she accidentally snorted nuka-cola up her nose. Katherine patted her on the back. "Good ending," she remarked. "But I think we could all tell that the mayor was the Mechanist."

"How?" Jenny scoffed, sniffing and rubbing her nose where the fizz had got to. "It came out of nowhere!"

"He's the only other character that it could have been," she passed Jenny a tissue. "But then, I've listened to a lot more radio serials than you have. You get a feel for where the stories going after a while."

"How old even are you?"

The question took Katherine aback and she paused, the smile fixed in place though she regarded Jenny with a searching look. "Twenty-three," she said, and assumed a playful expression; "but you shouldn't go around asking people's ages. It's rude." She gave Jenny a sly wink to show that she wasn't really offended.

"Well, it's just you act all well read and travelled, but I knew you couldn't be much older than me. And aren't you supposed to be an experienced tutor? How long have you been teaching?"

"Since I was still in highschool," she lied. "I was helping the other kids with their homework. I became rather well known for it, actually, and it's a good way to make money." She wasn't comfortable with the direction the conversation was heading. Lying outright wasn't something that sat well with her, even when it was more than justified given the situation. She had grown rather fond of Jenny over the past weeks. Allowing herself to invest emotionally in her education had let Katherine to forget about Nneka's late reply and about the growing tension in her stomach every time she thought about Azazel. She looked away, sipping her Nuka-cola.

"Didn't you go to university?"

"No," she said - another dishonest answer. If she didn't turn the conversation around shortly, she would find herself weaving an entire narrative around herself, complicated and completely false, something she would have to remember and maintain. The ice cream had chilled her and she shivered, knowing that a one word answer would not be enough to sate Jenny's curiosity. Anyway, she didn't want to punish the girl's questioning, not when she had spent so much time encouraging her to speak her mind and ask questions, even when they made other people uncomfortable. "But I did attend college for two years, learning how to be a formal tutor. Is it something that you'd be interested in after you are finished with high school?" She asked, moving the focus off herself and back onto Jenny.

"No, not really. I'm just asking. I actually don't really know what I want to do after I finish." Her voice had dropped a little, and it was her turn to avoid eye contact.

"But I bet your mom has some ideas about that…" Katherine pressed, her own curiosity rising up. "I noticed that there is a little bit of tension between the two of you." Her voice was soft, concerned. If Jenny were to shut down now, then there would be nothing more to say, but Katherine could sense that there was something fighting to get out of Jenny. Now that the recording had finished, silence had fallen, heavy and stifling, except for the sound of cars outside the window and Edward's thrusters humming.

"Yeah," Jenny sighed, with the air of someone admitting defeat. "She… she wants me to be a lawyer, like Dad." She licked her lips and took another swig of soda before lowering the bottle to her lap and looking at it with glassy eyes.

There was a pause. Katherine looked at the young woman sitting in front of her and hated the words that she said next, both because they were true, but also because she knew that they would mean nothing to Jenny. "It get's better. Someday you'll move out and then you'll get to be your own person without your parents telling you what to do all the time."

"Why should I wait?" Jenny grumbled, as Katherine knew she would. "Why should I just pretend not to exist, or fake being a person that I'm not. It could be years before I can move out. It's like I don't really get to start living until I get out."

"Life isn't a race, and don't look at it like not existing, look at it like... " Katherine tried to smile, hoping her voice sounded confident. "...Lying in wait."

Jenny tilted her head at Katherine, an incredulous look on her face. It was Katherine's turn to look away. Finally, she continued; "Ok, I know it doesn't feel like it now. I know right now it sucks. I know you feel like you're being held back, that you're going to explode if you're not given a little bit of slack - but you just have to hold on a little longer. Your situation right now is not going to get better, but sooner or later you'll make your own situation that fits you, and that's going to be amazing." Her smile this time was genuine. "Turn your frustration into something long lasting, something that endures, so that when you actually do get out, you can use all that passion to take on the world."

Jenny let out a sigh, reflecting Katherine's smile with a small weak one. "I know… I mean, it's not really that bad. I don't get hit, and they don't really say or do anything mean…"

Katherine frowned. "Jenny," she said; "It's not normal to be relieved that you don't have to go home."

Jenny's head snapped up and she looked wounded, the muscles in her arms tensing as she gripped the nuka-cola bottle just a little tighter. They looked at each other for a long time, and Katherine felt her mouth go dry, aware that she had crossed some sort of line, a line that Jenny was not brave enough yet to admit existed.

"Ma'am?" Edward said, his sudden interruption reminding both of them that he was still there and breaking the tension between them. "Should I give you and Miss Bates some privacy?"

"Yes Edward," Katherine said, patting his stainless steel body.

Without him there, the air in the room lost its electric charge, to be replaced with an receptive atmosphere - the kind that comes late at night and normally with alcohol where the world is ready to nurture the words that would whither and die in sunlight. Katherine waited.

"There's a part of me that they don't accept. They know it's there, I think, deep down, or perhaps they only know part of, or just some sense that something is wrong - but it's buried so far down, and I think they think that if they just wrap a string around that part of me, it'll just die and fall off, like a skin tag or something. Or that it's a phase that'll pass, like a storm they need to weather. I try to play along, let them keep believing it… I'm such a coward." Her voice broke and she shut her eyes tight as if against a bright light.

Katherine took Jenny's hand in hers and forced the girl to look up at her, holding her gaze fast. "It's not cowardice to seek safety. Hiding that part of you until you're free to express it without punishment is a valid decision and no one can judge you for that. No wonder you feel suffocated. It's not just your parents that are trying to suppress whatever natural growth you're going through right now." She squeezed Jenny's hand. "I think you know that you can be yourself here. If you need me to, I can organise further tutelage into your college years - so that you can continue to rely on me for a friend."

Jenny was fighting tears with every fibre in her body. Katherine's chest and throat ached. She wanted to fold Jenny into a hug, but knew that the girl had reached a level of honesty, that any further show of unsolicited intimacy would seem gratuitous and maudlin in the face of her very real vulnerability. Instead she said; "It's ok to take care of yourself. Give yourself a break. Simply being is enough." She heard herself echo the words of her old friend and rather hoped that Jenny would be a better student than she herself had been.

Jenny swallowed and inhaled deeply, trying to settle her trembling breath. "Thank you," she croaked eventually, apparently having wrestled herself back into a position of some dignity, tears at bay.

"There will be a time to grieve for lost time later," Katherine soothed.

"But for now I've got to be strong."

"I know you can be," she let go of Jenny's hand. "I'm going to have to drive you home soon, ok? Are you ready?"

Jenny nodded, her resolve steady now.


End file.
